


Creep

by god_of_wine



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, M/M, Pining, Sad Shane Madej, Unrequited Love, shane's hopeless, sometimes things just don't work out, there's no happy ending I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-07 22:35:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20478623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/god_of_wine/pseuds/god_of_wine
Summary: "Jesus, big guy, you're such a fucking sap when you drink."Shane sat up in a rush, regretting it as his head spun wildly, and he grabbed Ryan's arm as much for support as for emphasis. "No, Ryan," he attempted firmly, his tongue working the words thickly, haphazardly. "I -" he breathed in deeply, shakily, the weight of years of wanting this man crushing his ability to speak, to repeat the words. Instead, he had, in a fit of bravery, leaned in and kissed the younger man with all the feeling his wasted self could muster.





	Creep

**Author's Note:**

> Something about Shane's patented "Sad Eyes" just hit me in the feels today, and got me thinking about Big Sad Shane Emotions, and I 100% regret everything. Everything is just kind of a mess & I'm so sorry lol.

"When you were here before  
Couldn't look you in the eye  
You're just like an angel  
Your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather  
In a beautiful world  
And I wish I was special  
You're so fuckin' special

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.  
What the hell am I doing here?"

\- _Creep_, Radiohead.

Missing someone is a strange animal, Shane reflects; it's confusing and multilayered. For the last three months, Shane has been desperately clinging to that particular emotion as a catch-all for what he's been feeling, every time he looks over at Ryan, but it just doesn't cut it anymore. That's not what this is, and God, he longs for the days when he just _missed_ Ryan. Things were simpler. There's some hope, after all, in just missing someone.

On the surface, nothing has really changed. They laugh together, and joke at each other's expense, and play all the right parts with each other while they're on the job because they're professionals and all these years working together have given them something to fall back on, a pattern to go through the motions with. They're able to play at being the friends they always were for the same reason: so many years of being so close, of sharing so much of their lives together, makes it something habitual between them. It's as easy as breathing, thoughtless and natural. But Shane _can't_ breathe. Even if nobody can see the difference, Shane can _feel _it in the air between them, tangibly heavy and smothering, and he's choking on it. 

It would be easier if Ryan had been an asshole about it. Shane might have been able to logic his way out of his feelings, then, given himself concrete reasons to put his heart back in his chest, but Ryan hasn't been an asshole. In fact, Ryan hasn't said a word about that night at all. He's been nothing but a decent guy about it, because Ryan _is _a decent guy. And fuck that about him, honestly.

"So, dude," Ryan's voice as they're packing up to leave the office for the day is jolts him, and Shane barely manages to catch himself before he jumps like a startled cat. "They're showing Texas Chainsaw Massacre at that little theatre downtown tomorrow, you in?"

The question takes him completely by surprise with its normalcy, and Shane is pathetically proud of how steady and casual his own voice is. "Yeah, man, of course. Popcorn and horror, name a more iconic duo, right?" He makes himself drag his eyes away from Ryan, methodically stuffing things into his bag. "Who's coming?"

"Nobody," It's just a word, and Shane tries desperately not to read anything into it. Won't allow himself to, because there's nothing _there to read_. Shane forces himself to be sensible, figuring that nobody else had been free to go, and Shane's just Ryan's last resort because he hates seeing these kinds of things alone. Still, whether consciously or unconsciously, they hadn't spent any time away from work alone together; there had always been someone else there, some buffer between them, and Shane wasn't sure whether he was desperately grateful for that or not. Facing an evening alone with Ryan made his heart lurch, and whether that was anxiety or his own hopeless stupidity was anyone's guess. "That okay?"

"Yeah, uh - yeah." Shane pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, and slaps on his goofiest smile, hating the brief flutter of hesitation in his voice, because he's not at all sure if it really is okay.

.x.

_Shane had been going hard all evening long, participating in every round, matching every shot and suggesting another go. He had been beyond wasted, a clumsy, flirtatious, laughing mess, throwing his arms around peoples shoulders, tossing around cheesy winks like they were going out of style and all but falling into his friend's laps. He'd been keenly aware of Ryan all night long, and if he touched the shorter man more often than everyone else, flirted with him more doggedly than anyone else, well, who was going to notice? _

_It was sometime after one in the morning when he found himself being helped back to his feet by Ryan, his long fingers grasped in Ryan's smaller, solid hand. "Come on, you fucking squatch, help me out here," Ryan had laughed, drunk in his own right, eyes shining in the dim lighting of the bar as he struggled with Shane's ungainly weight. _

_When Shane was finally on his feet again, he leaned heavily into Ryan, arms tangled about his neck, the world spinning precariously beneath him. "The fucking bar has legs, Ryan! It's moving! Alert the news media!"_

_Ryan wheezed in his ear, and the rush of air against Shane's skin just about stopped his heart, every inch of him that was touching Ryan feeling electric through his floaty, dizzy haze. "C'mon, big guy, let's get you outside before you barf all over the floor."_

_Shane didn't argue, especially not when Ryan's arm went about his waist to support him, happy for any reason to continue to hang onto him. It would have been an awkward way to walk in the best of times, given their height differences, but it was made into a comical fiasco when the crowded nature of the bar and their own personal levels of inebriation were thrown into the mix. It took what felt like ages, and by the time the cool night air hit Shane's face, he felt like he was on fire, every jostling touch and tightening of grips along the way just adding to the rising inferno. Ryan stumbled, all but dumping them into the bench outside the bar, breathing heavily in a heady mix of breathy laughter and exhausted panting. "Christ, dude, weigh less!"_

_"You do all that gym shit, you can't - can't handle me?" Shane wasn't even really sure he got the words out correctly, feeling the ability to talk had completely left his heavy-feeling tongue, but judging by Ryan's snort and playful swat at his shoulder, he'd managed. They sat in silence, eyes closed and catching their breath, with Ryan letting Shane's head drop woozily onto his shoulder without comment, and Shane breathing in the warm scent of the other, suppressing a shiver. _

_"Ry?" It was soft, tentative. Hopeful._

_"Mmm?"_

_Shane would spent the next three months wondering what on earth had possessed him to finally say these words, years carefully spent pining and lusting in silence ruined in an instant. "I love you."_

_Ryan stiffened a little beneath Shane's cheek, before the tension went out of him and he laughed. "Jesus, big guy, you're such a fucking sap when you drink."_

_Shane sat up in a rush, regretting it as his head spun wildly, and he grabbed Ryan's arm as much for support as for emphasis. "No, Ryan," he attempted firmly, his tongue working the words thickly, haphazardly. "I -" he breathed in deeply, shakily, the weight of years of wanting this man crushing his ability to speak, to repeat the words. Instead, he had, in a fit of bravery, leaned in and kissed the younger man with all the feeling his wasted self could muster._

_For one blissful second, it was perfect - until Ryan jerked back, getting to his feet in a rush, a hand spread out before him defensively. "Shane," Ryan was breathless, his eyes wide and glossy as silver dollars. "You're - uh - wow - Shane, you're really fucking drunk. I'll uh - I'll get you an Uber, man, and uh - Jesus, Shane -"_

_And just like that, Shane had never felt so sober in his life._

.x.

They walk out of the office together, discussing tomorrow's Postmortem shoot and starting to hammer out the details of tomorrow night's movie, and Shane lets himself believe, for the moment, that nothing has changed. It's a dangerous way to let himself feel, and he knows it, but if he can't have Ryan, then maybe he can at least allow himself stolen moments here and there where he can convince himself his heart is still intact. Ryan holds the door open for him, and they share a smile that Shane doesn't feel like he has to force, and he feels buoyant as they spill out onto the stairs to the parking lot, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to finish their conversation before parting ways.

It's a temporary bliss, however, and it's punctured before it can even really set in. The doors to the building open, and one of the interns exits, her face practically lighting up the whole parking lot when she sees Ryan, and Shane wonders how it's possible that anyone looks at Ryan any other way. "Hey - are we still on for tonight?"

Ryan grins at her, that goofy, broad expression that makes Shane's heart stammer in his chest. "You bet." He takes the stairs two at a time up to meet her, and he angles for one of those tentative, semi-awkward kisses shared between people who are still learning each other's rhythms, new and familiar all at once.

Shane can't tear his eyes away, his long fingers curling around the hot metal of the railing, trying miserably to ground the painful thudding in his chest. He feels dizzy, unable to decide whether he desperately wants to throw up or cry, or worse yet, some mortifying mixture of them both, but thankfully manages to do none of those things. Somehow, in the winding road of the last few months, it had never crossed Shane's mind that Ryan would ever be dating. Too little too late, ripping his eyes away from them, Shane realizes that in some deep, dark corner of his bruised heart, he hadn't fully given up the hope that Ryan might eventually return his feelings. He lets go of the railing, starting to head off, the frighteningly strong urge to cry lodging itself firmly in his chest, and it's all he can do not to actually _run_ away before he makes a complete embarrassing mess of himself.

"See ya tomorrow, big guy!" Ryan's voice chases him, and Shane can't make himself look back, just raising a hand in acknowledgement, pretending to be too immersed in his phone, his eyes stinging and his breath coming a bit too short.

Missing someone might be a strange animal, but fuck, hope was a complete _bitch_.


End file.
